The Tennis Club
by Patrick O’Connor
THE faces looked out at him from the photograph. All six of them. But it was the girl on the left that had him transfixed.
Who was she, he pondered? A stupid thought really. Judging by the clothes the photograph was taken sometime in the 1920s. She would almost certainly be dead now or if not extremely old and wrinkly.
And yet Jeff Saunders, 35 year old history lecturer and part-time newspaper columnist, was spellbound.
Pretty much par for the course, thought Jeff. He was a ladies' man, couldn’t resist a pretty face.
It had cost him two marriages and it was like an addiction. Meet someone, have a passionate affair and move on.
What drove all this he didn’t know, nor particularly care. Because once he was ensnared nothing else seemed to matter. He knew it was destructive behaviour but he couldn’t help it.
But now he was captivated by a woman in a photograph taken over 80 years ago.
Why?
THE Oak was an old fashioned pub. A place where the main activity was drinking beer, real beer. It was a favourite venue for journalists from the Gazette. The booze and fag riddled hack was now an almost extinct species, but crime reporter Bill Moran was doing his best to keep the tradition going, even if it was on a much reduced scale. No long, leisurely lunches but the pub was a haven of relaxation after a day’s work.
“Pint of Pedigree Bill.”
“Cheers Jeff.”
“Well, what do you think of the photograph?”
It was Bill who had helped to get him started with his nostalgia column, "Every Picture Tells A Story".
“It doesn’t look very special to me. I mean, it’s just a bunch of people with tennis racquets. All very prim and proper in their whites. So what’s the big deal?”
Jeff frowned. “It’s something about their faces, as if they know something we don’t. Yes, they’re holding tennis racquets but, I don’t know, I just have this feeling that tennis is not what these people are all about. And look, they’re all holding hands. The men too. Very unconventional for a public pose, especially at that time. Don’t you think that’s strange?”
“Yes - a bit, but they could just be pally, that’s all,” replied Bill.
Jeff turned the picture so that it was directly in front of Bill’s gaze. There were three men and three women.
“The girl on the left, just look at her Bill, she’s so sure of herself, so self-confident, so ... sensual.”
“She’s certainly a looker,” Bill conceded. “If she walked into the pub right now, you’d certainly perk up.”
“That’s my whole point. This photograph - it could have been taken yesterday, it sort of transcends time.”
Bill started to get up, his glass empty. “Good grief, getting a bit deep aren’t we? It’s just six people enjoying a game of tennis. I can’t really see why it’s got you so hooked.”
“It’s just that….”
Bill reluctantly sat down again. “Look, I’m sure the readers will come up with some answers. I mean, that’s the point of the column isn’t it. You do your research, write a bit around what you can deduce from the picture and hopefully the readers can fill in the missing gaps. Anyway who sent the photograph in?”
“Don’t know much. It came in with a very brief note signed by a woman called Evelyn, no address just a mobile number.”
THE voice was soft and welcoming:
“Hello”
“Evelyn?”
“Yes”
“Hi, it’s Jeff Saunders here. You sent in a photograph for my column.”
“Oh yes.”
“Could I ask where you got it from?”
“I’ve just moved into my new home and had some renovation work done. The builders discovered it in the attic.”
”Were there others?” There was expectation in Jeff’s response.
“No, just this one.”
He could not hide his disappointment. “That’s a pity.”
“Why?”
“If it had been part of a scrapbook or an album then it might have given us some more clues.”
This time there was some eagerness, some urging in Evelyn’s reply. “Well won’t the readers do that? You ARE going to publish it, aren’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“When?”
“Well, we do have a bit of a backlog, the column has become very popular. So it could be seven or eight weeks before yours goes in.”
“Oh, I really can’t wait that long! This picture intrigues me so much. I’m dying to know more about the people in it. What happened to them, in the future that is.”
Jeff felt a surge of excitement. “Yes I know what you mean.”
“So you’re fascinated by it too. I’m not surprised. You will put it in this week won’t you? Please Jeff, then both of us can sleep more peacefully.”
That voice, so inviting. He just wanted to carry on listening to it.
“Hmm, yes, I’ll try.”
“I’m so grateful, thank you.”
Please don’t let it end, he thought.
“By the way, I haven’t got your address to return the photograph,” said Jeff.
“I have to go away for a couple of weeks unfortunately,” she replied “but when I get back I’ll ring you and maybe you could bring it round.”
“Yes, no problem.”
“I do look forward to meeting you.”
“Me too. Oh, one last thing Evelyn.”
“Yes?”
“I know this may sound daft but have we met before? Your voice sounds familiar.”
“Well, Jeff, if we had, I’m sure you’d remember.”
THE Grange Manor House had certainly enjoyed better days. A chequered history had seen it start life as the palatial home for a wealthy local family, but as time moved on it had been a nursing home for injured soldiers returning from the Second World War, an educational centre and a mental hospital.
Now it was in a state of some neglect. Doors and windows were boarded up to prevent children exploring but there was still enough around to encourage Jeff to bring his students on a field trip.
He’d also invited Bill to join him on his lunch break.
“It makes a change I suppose,” said the journalist, tip-toeing his way through the undergrowth.
“Stop whinging Bill, a bit of fresh air never did anyone any harm and anyway, judging by your complexion you’re in need of it. I’ve brought my students out here for a history project and I just thought it’s the perfect place for a natter.”
He sat down on a large tree trunk and beckoned Bill to join him.
Bill was not convinced. “You don’t get good hard news stories sitting around watching a bunch of lanky, pimply faced students poncing around in the grass. And that’s just the women!”
Jeff laughed. “Hey, you can’t say that about Suzanne over there.”
“Where?”
He nodded towards a tall, athletic girl with straight brown hair who was talking to two youths by an outhouse. Those legs, they seemed to go on for ever and images flashed into Jeff’s mind. Images that sent sparks flying.
Bill gave him an admonishing glance.
“What?” said Jeff.
“You know damn well what,” said Bill. “Look me straight in the eye and tell me you don’t fancy her. Christ what is she, 18, 19?”
Jeff got up from the tree trunk and started to move away. Bill strode after him forcefully.
“Jeff, what is it with you? We’ve known each other for years. You’re a really nice bloke but when it comes to women you have this self-destruct button. You’ve lost two gorgeous wives because of it. What are you looking for? Nearly all the women you’ve been with have been stunners. As one very jealous bastard I can definitely confirm that. And that comes from someone happily married – well sort of – for 10 years.”
Jeff just shrugged his shoulders. If he had been a few years younger, he would have just said, ‘Whatever.’
Bill said: “Most blokes would be happy with their Friday night nuptials and a woman who knows who’s in charge of the remote control. Maybe there’s no hope for you, maybe you’re just doomed as the man from Dad’s Army so eloquently put it.”
The mention of Dad’s Army broke the tension and Jeff responded with a smile: “Yes, maybe I am.”
Bill accepted, somewhat reluctantly, that his diatribe was over and said: “You’re shameless mate, doomed to whatever tragedy awaits you.”
Jeff sheltered his eyes from the sun and shouted across: “Suzanne come over here and meet Bill.”
Full of youthful confidence, Suzanne strode over to the two men.
I wonder if Bill is jealous, thought Jeff. Yes, that’s it, he fancies her himself. He’s just envious.
“Hello, Bill, nice to meet you.”
“And you Suzanne. How are you finding the learning process under my good friend here? Is he looking after you properly?”
“Oh he most certainly is, aren’t you Jeff?”
Jeff managed to look unfazed as he replied: “Yes, Suzanne’s a model student, very attentive.”
Suzanne started to blush slightly.
“I must get back to my work, otherwise I won’t finish my project and then I would be in deep, deep trouble with the boss here.”
“What exactly are you doing?” Bill asked.
Suzanne regained her composure. “We’re just looking around the grounds to see if we can find any links with its former glories.”
Jeff interrupted: “Yes, keep up the good work Suzanne. I’ll come over and see how you’re getting in a minute.”
The moment she moved out of hearing range Bill said: “You’re giving it one, aren’t you, you dirty bastard, go on, admit it.”
Jeff felt slightly angered, fuelled, he realised, by his own self-interest.
“Bill, stop trying to pass judgement on me. I’m not harming anyone. Suzanne is past the age of consent you know.”
“Jeff, this obsession with women will be the death of you one day.”
At this Jeff strode towards where Suzanne was kneeling down.
Turning back to Bill he said: “I tell you what, stop bellyaching and why don’t you and me give Suzanne a hand.”
As they approached Jeff said: “Right, get your jacket off and help Suzanne move those bricks and then we can see what’s under the boards. Any joy yet Suzanne?”
“Nothing so far,” she replied.
Jeff said to Bill: “Roll your sleeves up and get on with it. Come on, it’ll do you a bit of good. Makes a change from being cramped up in front of a computer.”
Bill took off his jacket and laid it down by the side.
“Okay move that board,” said Jeff. “That’s better, I think it’s shifting now. Just push both of you.”
It was then that Suzanne screamed. A scream that startled both men. A scream that seemed to go on and on.
JEFF strolled through the busy Gazette office. Bill was on the phone to the police but looked up to say: “Hi, take a pew, just got to finish this call.” After putting the phone down he said: “Good to see you. How’s Suzanne? I suppose it’s not everyday that you come across a human skeleton."
"Fine," said Jeff.
Bill beamed: “Great! Cracking story. ‘Skeleton discovered by students in the grounds of a derelict manor house’ - you can’t beat it.”
Jeff asked what the police had to say.
“Not much yet. They’re waiting on forensics to report back. They think a dog or a fox might have been digging – that’s why some of the bones have come up to the surface. Changing the subject, I see you published that tennis picture last week. Any response?”
Jeff said he was still waiting to hear from Evelyn.
“So you’ve spoken to her.”
“Yes, a couple of times. She was so keen to find out about the photographs that she asked if I could pass on the responses straight to her.”
Bill looked puzzled. “That’s a bit unusual isn’t it? You don’t normally do that. Hope you got their permission.”
“She offered to help and is even more fascinated by the picture than I am.”
“But I thought you said she had gone away for a while.”
“She had but she came back early so she would be around if any readers contacted me.”
“Boy! She’s keen,” said Bill.
THE Oak throbbed with early evening hustle and bustle. Both men had their jackets off, ties loosened and the beer went down quickly.
“Busy day Bill?”
“Yes. Got a front page exclusive lead on the skeleton, editor’s dead chuffed and yes I will have another pint.”
Jeff fought his way through the crowd and returned as quickly as he could, eager to find out more.
Bill said that police had reported that the skeleton belonged to a female, probably late teens, early 20s.
“But guess what? It’s been there for around 80/90 years.”
“I bet she could tell us a few stories,” said Jeff.
“Well, there’s one particular story the police would like to hear,” said Bill.
“What’s that?”
“How she got her head caved in and who buried her six feet under.”
BILL’S phone rang. It was Jeff asking if they could meet for a drink.
“Struggling a bit at the moment mate, going to be stuck in the office for a while,” he said.
Bill explained that police had two missing person cases they were getting increasingly worried about.
“A man and a woman, both seemingly completely normal, both happily married, no money worries but they’ve both suddenly disappeared without a trace.”
“Do they know each other?” Jeff asked.
“No it’s a bit weird but it’s got all the ingredients for a good story which is why I’m so busy.”
“No problem mate, make it another time,” he said.
----------------
BILL’S office voicemail took the message:
“Bill, it’s Jeff. Sorry about this. First you cancel and now me. Evelyn’s just rung to invite me round so hope you don’t mind if I pull out. See you soon.”
----------------
JEFF’S mobile took the message:
“Jeff, thanks for the message mate. No problems. In fact I was going to ring you and cancel myself. You won’t believe it but we’ve got another two people missing. Again a man and a woman, no connection, just clean disappeared. Catch you later.”
----------------
JEFF’S mobile took the message:
“Where the hell are you Jeff? I’ve tried your home and the university. Ring me back as soon as you can. It’s urgent.”
----------------
JEFF’S mobile took the message:
“Look mate, I don’t know what time you were due to see this Evelyn woman but DON’T go! If you’re already there, make your excuses and leave as quickly as you can. The police have discovered all these missing people have one thing in common – they all got in touch with Evelyn after seeing that damn tennis photograph in the paper.
Apparently she told them she had more photographs and suggested they meet up so they could have a look. She never mentioned this to you did she? Jeff, all four of these people are missing after speaking to Evelyn. You gave their numbers to her. And the thing is, the police don’t have an address for her. Jeff, I don’t think you should go anywhere near this woman until all this is sorted out. There’s something not right here.”
WHEN she opened the door he definitely wasn’t disappointed. He was overjoyed. She was stunning, tall, slender, short-cropped black hair, captivating green eyes and a smile that mesmerised him.
“Well, am I as you imagined I would be? Do you think I’m beautiful?”
Those words, spoken to him as he stood in her doorway, left him spellbound. He felt as if his breath had literally been taken away.
Finally he managed to stutter a reply, “Very. I knew from the moment I spoke to you that you would be beautiful.” She beckoned him inside.
“I suppose I just didn’t expect you to ask me the question so directly, that’s all,” said Jeff.
She stopped and faced him, her eyes piercingly direct.
“Oh I always knew I could be frank with you. Why don’t you turn your mobile phone off so nothing disturbs us,” said Evelyn.
“I’ve already done that,” he replied with satisfaction.
She smiled and it felt like a warm glow was cocooning him.
“Would you like a drink? Maybe a nice, cool lemonade?”
They chatted and chatted and Jeff felt as if there was no-one else left alive in the world but Evelyn.
Evelyn quizzed him about Suzanne.
“She’s just a fling. I wouldn’t have said anything about her if you hadn’t been so inquisitive.”
“I just want to get to know you a bit more Jeff. About your past, especially your lovers, all of them,” said Evelyn.
“Okay so what about turning the tables and letting me find out more about you. Maybe we can talk about your lovers.”
Her eyes twinkled.
“Oh don’t worry I’m fully prepared to reveal all. Every last drop of information about me and my past. But let me pour you another lemonade first. Put your feet up Jeff, you’re looking a little tired.”
MARY stood there awaiting her instructions. The high collar of her maid’s uniform was drenched in sweat. It had to be one of the hottest days of the summer.
“Thank you Mary, you can pour the tea now,” said Lucy who, despite the heat, looked annoyingly cool.
Mary looked on with a mixture of envy and annoyance at Lucy. The woman was porcelain pretty but with an air of arrogance that at times unsettled the maid.
As she poured the tea, Lucy edged forward from her seat.
“Oh my dear you do have the most deliciously delicate hands, don’t you think so Clive?”
Clive, dapper and tanned with flowing locks of blond hair, also got closer.
“Oh yes I do Lucy although I do feel you are embarrassing our young maid by being so demonstratively appreciative.”
Lucy said: “Don’t be silly, you’re not embarrassed, are you Mary?”
Mary, jet black hair and an upright stance, could feel her cheeks beginning to glow.
“No, Miss Lucy,” she replied.
“No of course not,” said Lucy. “Tell me Mary how long is it since you left Ireland and came to work for Clive’s family?”
Mary said: “I came across in the summer of 1921 Miss.”
Although she tried to avoid direct eye contact, Mary failed as Lucy moved round to face her.
“Do you miss Ireland Mary, after a whole year away? All that fresh air and countryside. It must be so invigorating. And the men, so big and brawny.”
“No Miss I don’t miss it, I’m very happy here.”
“But you’ve were left behind when Clive’s parents went off to the south of France.”
“Yes Miss. If Sir decides to stay and have his own guests at the Manor rather than going with his parents then Mrs Cooper, the senior cook, also remains.”
Lucy queried why Mrs Cooper wasn’t here now.
“She’s poorly Miss,” said Mary.
Clive added: “She’s got some gastric affliction, no doubt from eating too many of her own puddings. She was rushed to hospital three days ago.”
Lucy stretched to hold Mary’s hand. “So Mary has had to stay behind to look after us, rather than be in the south of France. Oh my darling what a disappointment for you.”
Mary removed her hand gently. “I go wherever I’m told to Miss.”
Lucy turned to Clive. “And so obedient. Oh you really are fortunate to have such a first class servant.”
Rather curtly Mary asked: “Will that be all Miss? Sir?”
Clive asked the maid if she would go out to the tennis courts to check if the others would like a drink.
“Tell me Mary, what do you think of Clive’s other friends?” asked Lucy.
Mary said they seemed very nice.
Lucy made a move to hold Mary’s hand again but the maid edged backwards.
“Don’t be shy girl. Look Clive, the poor dear is blushing, isn’t that so exquisite. Everyone likes you very much Mary. I am sure we will all get to know each other much better during our stay.”
“I’ll be off then sir,” said Mary.
Clive nodded and the girl quickly vacated the room.
He then turned to Lucy. “Well, what do you think?”
“Oh darling, she’s absolutely perfect,” said Lucy.
TRISTAN popped his head round the drawing room door and exclaimed with boyish enthusiasm: “Tennis anyone?”
Reclining on the couch, Lucy said: “I think you need to call the others in for a moment.”
Tristan looked puzzled: “Why, what’s happened?”
Lucy snapped back: “Just do it Tristan. Just tell Benjamin, Lucinda and Naomi we need to talk to them now.”
But Tristan stood his ground. “I will do it in a minute, tell me what’s going on first”
Clive turned round from the French windows where he had been staring out onto the tennis courts in a pensive manner. He said: “There’s a little, what shall we say, inconvenience to be resolved.”
Lucy rose from the couch and joined him by the windows where she put an arm around his shoulders.
“Don’t worry my darling, all your friends will rally round to help you. This is one of the reasons we formed The Tennis Club. To enjoy the good times together, in body and soul and to support each other in our hour of need. We’ll sort it out.” She stroked his head gently.
“For God’s sake, sort what out?” cried Tristan.
Lucy turned to face him. “Clive has had a little mishap.”
“Tell me what happened,” said Tristan.
“It’s that stupid girl Mary,” said Lucy but before she could continue Clive interceded: “Lucy, please, let me explain. It’s Mary, she’s…..”
Tristan butted in: “A fine young thing she is. I am hoping to get more acquainted with her during my stay. You don’t mind do you Clive?”
There was a pause and he caught a distant look on Clive’s face.
“Oh drat. You got there first. Tell me, was she a terrific sport?”
Clive suddenly looked weary. He went and sat down on a chair. “She’s a sprightly young thing and very perky. I was out by the pool while you lot were playing tennis. She was very friendly and I suppose I got excited. We began to play around and I started to kiss her. She lay down beside me but then all of a sudden, she was crying and saying it was all a big mistake. Said she was a good Catholic girl and what would her parents think.”
The look of expectation in Tristan’s face was ripe. “Yes?”
“She was getting very emotional and I got hold of her to try and make her calm down but she screamed. That’s when I hit her – I just wanted to stop her making such a dreadful noise. She cracked her head and started to bleed.”
Tristan’s demeanour changed instantly. “Oh crumbs, is she dead?”
Clive replied: “No she’s just lying there and moaning. There’s a lot of blood.”
Tristan began to wring his hands and pace up and down. “Oh Clive couldn’t you have been a little bit more, well, careful. Lucy, what we should do?”
“We need to make sure this stupid maid doesn’t tell anyone what happened,” she said.
“I understand,” said Tristan “but what can be done?”
Lucy turned towards Clive. “You know, don’t you darling We must take measures to ensure that the girl stays silent.”
“My sweet Lucy, you really are enjoying this aren’t you? It’s the sordiness of it all that you find so exciting,” said Clive knowingly.
Tristan was by now looking even more worried. “You’re not suggesting that we… I’m not sure I can be involved in anything like this.”
“Well, Clive?” asked Lucy.
Clive stood up. “Oh damn it, let’s get on with it. The sooner it’s done the better.”
“Yes, but how are we going to….?” said Tristan.
“Clive, bring the cricket bat,” ordered Lucy.
JEFF slowly emerged from his slumber. Evelyn was sitting next to him, gently running her fingers through his hair. He could smell her sweet aroma but as soon as he tried to raise his head nausea stormed in.
“Evelyn, I’m so sorry. I think I must have dozed off. I’m afraid I don’t feel too well. My head’s a bit hazy.”
Evelyn poured another glass of lemonade. “Don’t worry, it’s been a very hot day. One of the hottest of the year. Drink some more lemonade, that might help you.”
Jeff took hold of the glass and took a sip. “I think I’m feeling a bit sick.” He saw the photograph on the table and took another sip.
“Have you managed to identify it?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so, thanks to your kind help. But you know don’t you? “
He couldn’t quite grasp what she was saying. “Know what? What do you mean?”
Evelyn smiled but this time the effect wasn’t as soothing. “It’s The Tennis Club silly.”
“What?” said Jeff.
“That’s what we called ourselves, remember. Of course we did enjoy the odd game but our group had a much more interesting programme of events, didn’t we?”
Jeff replied that he hadn’t the foggiest idea what she was talking about. “Oh my head hurts, have you got any aspirins?”
“Don’t fret my darling, it will all come back to you very soon. It did with the others.”
Jeff felt his anxiety mounting by the second. “What will? What others?” He tried to get up but realised to his horror that he couldn’t move his legs.
Evelyn held his face in her hands. “We were all like-minded souls, we liked to stretch the boundaries of our imaginations, to explore new meanings, tastes and sensations. We explored each other’s bodies, each other’s minds, far beyond what any ordinary mortal could conceive. We were very special, we still are.”
Jeff removed her hands and tried to push himself away from her. “Evelyn, you’re scaring me. Please this is crazy. I really must go. Oh my head, what’s happening?”
Evelyn kissed him on the lips. It was a sensation he had dreamt about so much but one he now found abhorrent.
“We were such wonderful free spirits in those days, all of us. Then that silly girl tried to spoil everything. But The Tennis Club rallied round and sorted everything out.”
Jeff tried to summon up as much strength as possible. “Look, we’ve never met before today, you know that.”
More nausea and now he realised his vision was wavering. “What have you done to me Evelyn? Please ring an ambu…..”
“And after we buried her,” said Evelyn.
“Buried who?”
“We made a special pact Clive.”
Jeff could hardly get the words out: “Who’s Clive?”
“We made a pact that when the signs were right we would reunite in new bodies and reform The Tennis Club.”
Jeff said: “Evelyn, you’re quite mad. What signs?”
“All the signs appeared quite quickly. It was like a jigsaw puzzle, all the pieces fitting together so clearly. First of all the builders find the photograph in my attic, then I see your picture and your column in the paper. I recognised you straight away you know, I knew it was you, I knew.”
A deep, painful, moan came from Jeff.
“And then the report in the newspaper about the skeleton being found by your students. I knew then it was time.”
“You’re crazy, absolutely crazy. I have no idea at all what you are rambling on about,” said Jeff who felt as if he was going to pass out at any moment.
He was also beginning to experience excruciating stomach cramps. “Please call an ambulance, I feel dreadful and I can’t get out of this chair.”
“And you did what I asked and published the photograph. It was then only a matter of time before they recognised themselves and came forward to meet up again,” she said.
“That’s ridiculous, no-one would come forward, no-one recognised themselves. They just wanted to talk about the photograph. This is madness, sheer madness,” he shouted at her.
“The photograph had only been in the paper a short time before Benjamin, Tristan, Lucinda and Naomi contacted me,” said Evelyn.
Clutching his stomach Jeff again made another unsuccessful attempt to move but quickly sank back into the chair.
“They were just people who thought they had information about the photograph. They weren’t alive in the 1920s., you bloody crazy bitch!”
“Oh Clive, this is the moment I have been waiting for, for a long, long time.”
“What did you do to them Evelyn? The others. Where are they?” gasped Jeff.
She smiled. “I think you’ve drunk enough lemonade now. The others enjoyed their lemonade as well you know. It won’t be long now. And then I will have a glass or two myself.”
Jeff screamed: “Stop talking about this bloody tennis club! I don’t want to know about your stupid friends or Mary”.
Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”
“What?” said Jeff.
“You said her name, Mary. My sweet, sweet Clive, my darling boy, you’ve remembered.”
Horror filled Jeff’s entire being. “No I didn’t, I don’t, no, I……”
His scream echoed throughout the room. It seemed to go on and on…..